Poison Is Libel
by Logan Charles
Summary: Yamato is in the throes of angst, after suffering a crippling rejection from the one person he needs the most...


Poison Is Libel

Chapter 1

It was near nightfall in the Land of the Rising Sun. _How ironic_, thought the blonde-haired boy lying dejectedly on his bed, as he gazed longingly at the torn picture of a beautiful chestnut-haired boy that he gripped tightly in his slightly trembling hands.

The last rays of sunshine were filtering softly through the blinds of his window, gleaming beautifully orange and red while illuminating the picture with a fiery light, before finally falling swiftly over the distant horizon. His room was now blanketed in silent darkness, and the smiling face of the boy in the picture disappeared in shadow.

"Stupid Tai," said the boy lying on his bed, before taking the picture and ripping it into neat little squares, then proceeding to scatter the pieces all over the floor.

A slight shudder wracked his body as he stood, and he could feel a sob almost escape him, but he held it in check. "I'm not going to cry over him. Not anymore. That part of my life is over…" he said to himself, voice cracking with emotion, not sounding as convincing as he would have liked.

"I have to be strong, be strong—" he told himself, saying the words over and over in his mind, like a soothing mantra that would help chase away his weakness and sorrow. "I hate being like this," he added, his voice carrying a tone of disgust.

"Nobody should be allowed to make me feel this way…" he continued, as his voice began to trail off. A flush of anger and resentment coloured his face crimson as he remembered just why he'd been in the emotional state he was in now: Taichi had rejected him.

Ishida Yamato got up, and walked out of his room and across the living room to the bathroom. His dad was sitting on the couch watching the evening news, and he tried to quicken the pace and be as invisible as possible in the dimly lit room, to avoid being spotted. Unfortunately, he wasn't expecting to run into the kitchen table, effectively blowing his cover and injuring himself at the same time. "Smooth one," he whispered to himself through clenched teeth, as he let out a mewling sigh of pain.

Mr. Ishida turned around in surprise to spot his son nursing a bruised thigh and an equally bruised ego. He laughed for a second at the pathetic sight, but quickly shut up after he caught Yamato's venomous glare, and said "Well Yama, what's with all the sneakiness?"

_Great_, Yamato thought, j_ust what I need right now_. Trying to shield his tear-stained face in the gloom of the kitchen, Yamato replied nonchalantly, "Oh, nothing Dad. I'm just headed to the bathroom. Wasn't paying to where I was going, and bumped into the table. That's all." He silently hoped his response didn't sound too rushed. He didn't want his father to see him in this state. His nerved and emotions were both on edge, but he didn't want it to show. Fortunately, he prided himself on his ability to put on an icy, emotionless mask whenever he felt vulnerable.

"Alright," his father said, and gave him a strange look, before turning back to the TV. Yamato sighed visibly, and let out the breath he'd been holding. He continued swiftly on his trek to the bathroom, with a disdainful glance backwards at the table that had betrayed his cause. Once there, he took a swift look in the mirror and cringed before looking away. He couldn't stand to see his beautiful face in such disarray. His hair was all over the place, icy-blue eyes bloodshot and swollen, cheeks stained with salty tears. "Thank god Dad didn't get a good look at me."

With practised ease, he skilfully put his hair back into an acceptable state of ordered perfection. Pleased with the outcome, he proceeded to twist the cold water tap and splash his face with the chilly blessing that poured forth. More alert and awake now, he took another look in the mirror. His eyes were still hopelessly bloodshot and swollen, but that was easily fixed with a sweep of concealer and some eye drops. "I wonder what people would think of me if they found out I wore make-up?" He smirked ironically. _But then again_, he thought, _it wouldn't come as _that_ much of a surprise to some_…

His cheeks started to colour when he remembered one of Taichi's favourite names for him, which he'd use to tease the blonde-haired boy about his obsession with his looks. "Come on, _Princess Yama_, we don't have all day for you to adjust your tiara, we'll be late for school!" Taichi knew it pissed him off, and usually understood it even better when he got punched in the gut for saying it. But it was just one of those things that, strangely enough, made him all the more attracted to the brown-haired boy.

When he was done with the concealer, he took out some blush from his "bathroom bag", as he liked to call it, but upon closer inspection by anyone else, it would be "wrongly mistaken" for a makeup case. He looked somewhat paler than usual, so he needed a little livening up. With a swift brush on both cheeks, he was back to his normal perfect self, on the outside at least. The same couldn't be said for how he still felt on the inside.


End file.
